Better Off Dead
by Perminator
Summary: Hermione accidentally dies, and finds life to be more fitting as a ghost (okay, so in the first chapter she's getting used to her new life.)
1. The Bad Chapter That Doesn't Explain Muc...

A/N: You all know who belongs to who and what and that I do not own any of J.K. Rowling's characters. Anyway, this story is utter nonsense (as is all of my stories, but that's the way I like it)., and the characters are a little out of character (but were all friends!) Also, I am also wondering if I am the only person who likes Quirrell out there (it's very strange to me too).  
  
***  
  
"Oh, look at the time," Hermione yawned to herself. She was by herself in the Gryffindor common room, slaving over a particularly hard Charms essay. "I think 3:30 is my limit. I do have a whole two weeks to finish it. I think I will go to sle..."  
  
She could not finish her sentence, for she fell asleep on her desk, in the middle of the common room.   
  
No more than two hours later, she awoke with a startle. She was standing in the middle of Snape's office. In her hands was an empty bottle of boomslang skin. Hermione gasped, she knew that boomslang by itself was certainly lethal, and could take her life, if she did not hurry.  
  
Then the thought dawned on her as she fell to the floor, maybe she had not eaten any at all? Maybe she has some in her pocket, or maybe Snape was just out...but then she realized she had when she stopped breathing.  
  
***  
  
Hermione opened her eyes, but felt entirely strange. She seemed alive, but did not feel like it, and then reality hit when she saw her body on the floor.  
  
"Oh my!" She gasped when she saw the writhed former self lying crumpled and cold on the dungeon floor. She broke into a sob, "My life is over."  
  
A door opened, and then walked in Professor Snape. "Ms. Granger, what are you doing hovering around my classroom when you should be down eating breakfast and flirting with Mr. Potter?"  
  
She broke into an even larger sob, "Oh, look at me! I'm dead! I must have sleepwalked in here and ate your boomslang skin! Oh, I'm so sorry!"  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow at her, "Did you eat it all?"  
  
She nodded her head while wiping her tears from her transparent face.  
  
He sighed, "Well, I suppose we can take your body to Madam Pomfrey. We will think of something to do with it later. Now, please follow me, I need time to prepare my classes."  
  
***  
  
Hermione attended her funeral, but no one seemed to be tragically saddened. They could still talk to her, even though (Hermione did not like this idea) she had to quit school. A ghost is not very useful to the outside world.  
  
She and Dumbledore had come to the agreement that she could still sleep in the Gryffindor dormitories, and do activities with her friends, but she could not attend the classes.   
  
When her friends were in classes, and the library had become depressing, she decided to visit her old 'friend' Moaning Myrtle. If you do not remember whom Moaning Myrtle is, I tsk you and order you to reread books two and four.  
  
"Hi Myrtle!" Hermione waved as she flew into the abandoned bathroom.  
  
"Get out of my bathroom, you bathroom whore." Myrtle snarled.  
  
Hermione broke into a sob, "I am sorry, it's just you're a ghost, I am a ghost..."  
  
Moaning Myrtle made a sound of surprise, she floated out of her stall and took a good look at what was to be Hermione. "So you are," she said with a smile. She grabbed Hermione's hand, "Let me show you some of my favorite spots."  
  
***  
  
They jumped into a crack in the wall and floated for what seemed like forever. When the finally popped out, they were in a room Hermione had never seen before.  
  
"This," Myrtle said as she broke into an absolute smile, "is where all the pipes are."  
  
Hermione did not see the greatness of it all. She smiled, trying to be polite, "It's...uh...lovely."  
  
Myrtle smiled, "Isn't it?"  
  
Hermione, in her I'm-not-trying-to-be-rude voice said, "Excuse me, but what is the point?"  
  
"This is where my boyfriend and I make out all the time," Myrtle giggled.  
  
Hermione did not want to know. All the ghosts she had known throughout the castle never bothered to notice Myrtle existed, if you could call it that.  
  
"Who is your boyfriend?" Hermione asked, not wanting to sound too sarcastic.  
  
Myrtle giggled again, "You should know him. I'll take you to meet him tomorrow. We have a romantic date tonight."  
  
With that, Hermione did not want to know anymore. She knew it was not one of her close friends, but prayed it was not a ghost she knew personally.  
  
She looked at her watch, "Well, nice talking to you Myrtle. I should really go and catch up with Harry and Ron. What time and place shall I meet you tomorrow?"  
  
Myrtle sighed with disapproval. She was happy she now had a girl ghost to giggle with. "Ten in my stall."  
  
***  
  
What do you guys think? I think it's going decent. If I get a good amount of reviews, I will write the next chapter and I PROMISE I will reveal you Myrtle's boyfriend is.   



	2. The Chapter That is a Little Better

A/N: So, thank you for the reviews. Most said the idea was good, it just needed a little...readjusting. Well, I suppose I did a decent job here. Anyway, everyone knows the characters do not belong to me...so read away.  
  
***  
  
It had been a month since Hermione had her fateful incident, and her afterlife could not have been any worse. She was beginning to miss the things she had taken advantage of when she was alive. She missed the taste of slave-labor prepared food, she missed talking to her parents about what the future had in store for her, and most of all, she missed her academics.  
  
Dumbledore had tried to convince the board of governors that all was well for her to continue her education. The board mentioned that there would be no future for her, and it was absolutely pointless for her to waste her and the professor's time.  
  
"I am sorry, there is nothing I, nor anyone can do," Dumbledore explained.  
  
Hermione sobbed, "It's just not fair! Why shouldn't Snape be responsible for this! He's the one that left his class and office doors open!"  
  
Dumbledore looked at her, with a glint of pity in his eyes, "Well, the board did the 'Priori Incantato' spell, and the last two were 'Alohomora'."  
  
Hermione sobbed even more, "Do...sniff...you still have...sniff...my wand? You know...sniff...for a souvenir."  
  
For the first time ever, she had seen a true frown from Dumbledore. He held up a gallon sized ziploc bag; this did not look good. She saw that the bag had contained the precious splinters of her former wand. Hermione broke into even larger sobs.  
  
Though that had been a week ago, it seemed like an eternity. Every day she saw the happy, alive students walking to and from their classes. She wanted to shake them and tell them not to take their life for granted, but that might cause even more regrets in the long run.  
  
Harry and Ron had been encouraging at the beginning, but had slowly shelled her out. She had try to catch up with them after every class, but they just answered her questions with vague answers.  
  
Her parents had been a large help, but the Ministry of Magic was now telling her that a ghost going to visit a muggle home seemed odd, and they could not have that permitted. Hermione was devastated, but not as much as her parents.  
  
***  
  
"Myrtle, I need to talk to you!" Hermione floated into Myrtle's bathroom. Hermione seemed to have an immediate need to talk to her.  
  
Myrtle was redecorating her bathroom. She was painting the stalls a pale shade of blue, being especially careful not to drop any on a pile of over turned photos.  
  
"Myrtle, we need to talk." Hermione said, even more impatient than the last time. Myrtle sighed and set her paintbrush back in the can.  
  
"What do you want?" Myrtle was obviously not happy since Hermione disrupted her redecorating mood.  
  
"Were you depressed when you died?" Hermione asked, toning down her voice to reasonable terms.  
  
Myrtle laughed, "I was severely depressed until," She heaved a sigh, "I met him."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Well, unless I can share 'him' with you, I am in a bit of a fix."  
  
Myrtle looked offended, "You're not touching him!"  
  
Deciding that a subject change was the best possibility, Hermione spoke again, "Well, how long did it take for you to...well...adapt. I am not very happy at this moment."  
  
Myrtle recognized the seriousness, almost urgency, in her voice. "Well, it did take me awhile, but once you get past the fact that you are dead, and you will always be dead, it isn't so bad. It took me 45 years, so I am rather proud of myself!"  
  
Tears began to swell in Hermione's eyes. Myrtle had not been much help.  
  
Myrtle looked at the dusty clock above the sink. "Oh look at the time! I have a date in ten minutes, I think I will go tidy myself up."  
  
Myrtle had left, and Hermione had the sudden curiosity to look at her pile of pictures in the corner.  
  
'No, Hermione,' she thought to herself. 'That's not yours. Remember what your parents taught you when you were alive? They said not to look at other people's personal property.'  
  
Then another thought popped into her head, 'You are dead. It's not as if she could kill you if she found out. I doubt it could be anything terrible. If it's a picture of her naked, you can just throw it down and run away trying to get the terrible thought out of your head.'  
  
She battled with herself for a mere ten minutes when Myrtle arrived, dressed impressively in a sheer white transparent dress with dangling earrings. "How do I look?" She asked smiling.  
  
"Good, I suppose," Hermione replied, still battling over the photos. "Where are you going?"  
  
Myrtle giggled as she looked into the unnaturally dusty mirror, "I have a very important date with my boyfriend." She gave a sigh of satisfaction. "I do believe it'll be pivotal towards our relation." She gave a final look at the dusty wall clock, "I'm on my way! Please do lock up on your way out of here."  
  
As soon as she let out her last words, she disappeared beneath the crack in the floor.  
  
Hermione still struggled with herself on whether to look at the photos or not, but finally, she gave in and rushed over to the pile.  
  
There were not very many, four or five at the most, but seemed to be taken very good care of. They were still very glossy, and did not have as much as a slightly bent corner.  
  
She poured over them, looking at every aspect, every angle, and every detail. In all of them she saw, of course Myrtle, and a very familiar looking ghost. No matter what she did, his name could not come to her mind.  
  
"You can do it Hermy!" She tried encouraging herself. Then it came to her. "Professor Quirrell?"  
  
  



End file.
